


A Kiss, Sweet Mother

by Gaqalesqua



Series: Monthly Requests [24]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Biting, Cunnilingus, F/M, Ghost Sex, Rough Sex, Scratching, Strength Kink, Temperature Play, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-22 17:30:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20878001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaqalesqua/pseuds/Gaqalesqua
Summary: A Dark Sister is visited by an old friend.





	A Kiss, Sweet Mother

It was cold. 

Nal shot up out of bed, skin prickling, as the unseasonal cold raised goosebumps on her skin. Her eyes fixed on the bluish-white figure sitting on the edge of her bed. Scrabbling for the edge of her covers, her hands gleamed with violet magic, a dagger appearing in one hand. The figure didn’t move. Hooded, wearing a thick tunic and trousers, Nal watched them, waiting for the first movement. 

_ “My Silencer.” _

Butterflies filled her stomach, and Nal felt her mouth drop open. She knew that voice. She hadn’t heard that voice since it had barked at her to go and find evidence of a traitor to clear its owner's name.

The dagger vanished from her hand. 

“Lucien?” she whispered, leaning closer. 

The figure turned, pulling their hood down, and despite the blue-white eyes where dark brown irises used to be, there was no mistaking the face. A face she hadn’t seen in two centuries, and yet here he was, sitting on the edge of her bed like his death had been of no consequence at all to him. 

“You seem so surprised to see me,” Lucien drawled. 

“You _ died_,” Nal shot back. “I-I mean, I don’t understand- how are you _ here? _”

“I have returned to serve the Will of Sithis,” the ghost told her calmly. “Though...I do not serve at _ this moment. _”

Nal watched those empty eyes as they slowly drifted down her body, taking in the changes time had wrought on her since he’d seen her last. Though, not like this. Never like this. Despite her frequent fantasies, the relationship between Speaker and Silencer had remained cordial and professional. But now…

“Time has shaped you,” Lucien murmured, kneeling up to move closer. 

He came forward with a predatory sway, and Nal found herself with her back to the headboard as Lucien knelt over her, his ghostly body lighting up the room just enough for him to _ see _ her. 

“You have given life to children of your own,” he added with a low growl. His hand raised to touch the softness of her belly, tracing the stretch marks, and Nal _ yelped _ as the icy fingers rubbed against her skin. 

“Gods,” she breathed, “you’re _ freezing_.”

Lucien laughed, deep and low. “It is the touch of the grave, my dear.”

“I...I still don’t,” she gulped as his fingers moved _ up_, “how are you _ here? _”

Lucien’s touch ghosted up her sternum. “I was gifted to a Dark Sister as a reward for her dedication to our Family,” he told her softly. “I could not help but notice the,” his gaze dropped back to Nal’s marked belly, “_resemblance_. Her eyes were...so _ familiar_. And thus I asked questions. Petitioned the Dread Father.”

“To,” she gasped, “see _ me _?”

“My Silencer,” he murmured. “Speaker, Listener, Dark Sister_. _ ” Lucien leaned closer, and Nal felt her breath catch. “Hero. Saviour. Champion, _ mother_. Mother to a Listener. Mother to the Saviour of the Dark Brotherhood. A very accomplished list for a Wood elf girl who required so much tutelage after I first handed her a Blade of Woe.” 

“That was 200 years ago,” she muttered. 

Cold fingers grasped her chin. “And yet the world was saved within a year of my death. I only wish to have been around to _ savour _ it in person, rather than beyond the grave.”

“I tried,” Nal mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“My Silencer.” Lucien drew in closer. “You are no more to blame for my death than the rest of Cheydinhal. And as you can see, my death has not rendered me _ lacking_.” 

Nal swallowed, watching as his mouth came closer. “Lucien,” she whispered, and his lips parted in a dark smile that made her _ throb_. “We can’t. My husband…”

“Hush.” His thumb brushed her lips. “The boy has been consulted.”

Nal’s eyes widened, not just at the idea that Lucien had already _ asked _ Cal if he was ok with this. A 200 year old and slightly grumpy vampire had just been referred to as a _ boy_.

Cold weight settled over her. “To steal from another Dark Brother or Sister is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis,” Lucien purred. “I have no intention of invoking such punishment for the sake of what I have planned for you.” 

Nal swallowed, looking briefly up at him. “...what do you have planned?”

Lucien kissed her. 

It wasn’t so much a kiss as an attack. His mouth was cold, and rough on hers, almost suffocatingly intense as he dragged her back so that she was lying flush against her bed. Nal raised her hands to grab spectral shoulders and grip tight. Without warning, her wrists were suddenly above her head, held there by Lucien’s vice-like grip and remaining where he had put them even after his touch withdrew and started scratching down her arms. All the while his lips moved with breath-taking strength and determination against her own. 

Nal was used to the cold. Her husband was a vampire. But the difference between him and Lucien was like ice and snow. Lucien's spectral fingers cupped her breasts and felt like the gentle touch of snowflakes on her naked skin, even as it stoked heat between her thighs. The cool sensation persisted, even as his hands moved down, and his teeth tugged on her lower lip. 

"Are you cold?" Lucien murmured, scraping ghostly nails down her belly. 

Nal arched with a gasp, her hands still somehow pinned down even without his grip restraining her. "No," she gasped, and it was true. Her body was quickly warming under him, and her thighs parted to allow him to settle between them. 

That mouth curled into a devious smile and her eyes widened as he dropped his head a little lower. "Good." 

Cold lips were a familiar sensation to Nal, but Lucien was _ different_. As he sucked on her nipple, it was less solid than a mortal, lighter and more liquid. And _ intense_. The wake of his touch prickled with cold like little icy fingers that left her gasping. His touch wafted over her other breast, its very presence imparting a cool drift of air. Cold palm cupping the lithe curve, Nal was left whimpering as his tongue played with the dark peak like a cold stream running over it, again and again, and her hips jerked with each swipe, slick gathering between her thighs. 

"I can taste that in the air," Lucien murmured, pausing to score his teeth between her breasts and then drag his tongue up the marks he had left. "Your desire is heady, Silencer. You come to arousal so quickly...what does that say about the touch you receive?"

Nal's eyes narrowed. "Cal is more than enough. This is…" She swallowed. "This is just...what I wanted. From you."

Lucien gave her a dark chuckle, and nipped at the underside of her breast. "Is this what you dreamed of in those hours I showed you how to wield a blade?"

The times Lucien had spent teaching her how to fight dredged themselves up in her memory, quickly followed by her fantasies of having the Imperial bend her over a crate in the training room, his voice in her ear as he fucked her. 

"Yes," she breathed out. "Sithis, _ Lucien_." 

Cold teeth scraped over her belly as Lucien's mouth moved over her ribs and down. There was no soft adoration here - he left bites in his wake that would probably bruise. The spectre reached her mound, and blew. Frigid air wafted against her sex. Nal shivered, her hips bucking. Heat was burning expectantly beneath her skin, and she wished those white eyes had some visible pupil to them. She wanted to know where he was looking, what he was drinking in. What he was thinking. And Lucien’s tells had never been obvious, but this apparition had even less-

His tongue swiped up her slit, that rush of icy-cold water even more unbearably potent on such sensitive flesh. Nal yelped, her body shaking. A whimper escaped her as that cold breath blew over her slit again, and Lucien’s fingers grasped her thighs, holding her down so that when his tongue dragged over her again she didn’t squirm out of his grip. It was almost paradoxical, how Lucien’s frozen tongue was sending waves of heat through her, and the contrast of temperatures did nothing but add to Nal’s arousal, and _ sensitivity_. Little growls escaped him between licks, sounds of satisfaction that she’d only ever heard from someone devouring a fine meal. 

Nal wondered, whimpering, what it was like to be dead for 200 years, and then to come alive as a shadow of your former self.

Whether or not that would make a man _ hungry_. 

Lucien’s tongue was grinding against her slit, dragging up to cover her nub again and again until Nal was practically squirming off the bed. A litany of gasps and whimpers escaped her, filling the air around her, and if this were any other man or mer, she would have coiled her fingers into his hair and held on tight, riding that rough enthusiasm with rocking hips. But this was Lucien Lachance come to life once more, and her hands were pinned above her head by an unseen force that seemed to be made completely of Lucien’s will, and he was gripping her hard enough that there would be bruises on her thighs tomorrow. But the dull pain detracted nothing from the sensations created by the mouth that now covered her clit. 

Nal didn’t want to make comparisons between Lucien and Cal, she didn’t, but she couldn’t help it. Lucien’s lips felt like snow melting against her, a ring of frozen softness that had her squirming beneath his mouth with helpless yelps. She hoped that if she summoned the courage to ask her husband to use magic in bed, he would not want to ask her why, because as that tension began to cinch tight between her thighs, each wet, icy flick of Lucien’s tongue between sucks was driving her insane in a way she had never felt before. 

Her belly swooped like she was falling, her thighs tensing in his grip, and Lucien raked his nails down her legs with a sharp growl that made her _ arch _ up off her bed with a stuttered cry of his name. For a heartbeat, as she looked down to meet those strange white eyes, she wondered if that characteristic sadism would show here and have him tear his mouth away before she was done. 

The thought of it was enough to push her over the edge, and Nal was left shuddering and shaking beneath the frozen licks as her orgasm rushed through her in a wave of heat that seemed to amplify what his mouth was doing to her the longer it went on. And on it _ went_, Lucien’s skill teasing out her completion until she couldn’t bear it, wrenching at her spectral bindings in an effort to try and push his head away. 

Lucien looked up from between her thighs and gave her that _ smile_, the predatory gaze that left her body pulsing expectantly despite the satisfaction that he had just given her. 

“Are you _ pleased _?” he murmured. 

Nal nodded frantically, her breathing ragged. “Yes,” she panted. “Yes, _ Lucien_, that was…”

“Good,” he purred. “_Good_.”

Soft blue mist shifted around him as he crawled up her body, and as his mouth reached hers Nal realised that he was naked now, his cock hard and pushing at her thigh. Her breath caught beneath the kisses. 

“When I was summoned to this world once more, I did not think I would have everything any other man did,” he told her, his voice soft and low as his hand dragged up her body to cup her breasts. “Nor did I think I would have the self-same desires, yet here I am,” he rolled his hips, the tip of his cock stroking against her, “and I have all I had as a man and more.”

_ Thank fucking Sithis_, Nal thought, as his mouth met hers again, body pressing into her own and laying that snow-soft form over her. 

When she was still just his Silencer, Nal had shamelessly daydreamed about something like this. About what he would feel like buried in her. What he would do to her. It was just that she had expected to have him whilst he was still living. But the cold thickness rubbing against her sensitive nub, pushing at her slit to coat himself in her slick, was another sensation entirely. From everything she could feel, the man felt like a man - rigid, velvety-soft, firm as it pushed into her. But that was accompanied by that familiar coldness, stroking against her walls as he filled her with a few thrusts. 

“Are you in pain?” Lucien asked her.

“No,” Nal breathed. “Not at all.”

That _ smile_. 

“_Good. _”

The sensation of ghostly hands grabbing her breasts was abruptly outweighed by the rough slap of his body against hers. As the snow-soft sensation of thumbs rubbed against her nipples, Lucien gripped her waist and pinned her to the bed with a strength that made Nal wonder if he had been this strong as a mortal, or if this was some ethereal gift that his new form had gifted him. Not that she was thinking it for very long. All those daydreams she had, all the fantasies she’d conjured up back when Lucien was still breathing, they paled in comparison to the sensation of _ actually _ getting fucked by him. 

With her hands above her head, and that soft blue mist swirling over her breasts, mimicking the sensation of hands, Nal was completely at his mercy. And each thrust of his was as cold as his fingers, but thicker, firmer, rubbing at her walls until she was moaning helplessly below him, her eyes closing. 

“Look at me.”

Nal did as she was told as the man knelt up over her, those featureless eyes staring at her as his hips began to drill her. She couldn’t meet his gaze, but when she dropped her head and looked down, all she could see was his cock working in and out of her, spectral form gleaming with her slick. Butterflies filled her stomach at the thought.

“200 years without such sensations.” Lucien’s voice was _ irritatingly _ even, despite the pace of his hips. Nal had to suppose it was a side-effect of being a ghost, just as he dug his nails into her hips, just enough for ten delicious pinpricks of pain to register and spike her arousal. 

“You don’t _ sound_, mm, too bothered by this,” Nal gasped. 

Lucien laughed. “I don’t exhaust.”

_ Oh_. 

“And _ you,_” Lucien paused to _ moan _ as Nal squeezed him with her walls, “oh, my spirited Silencer, have rather more durability than most, do you not?”

A hand dropped between her thighs and began to stroke her clit, but the sensation of her hip being pinned persisted regardless. Nal’s thighs jerked, a sharp gasp escaping her as a new wave of pleasurable heat joined the paradoxical hot-and-cold sensation his cock was giving her. She almost didn’t respond, too busy panting out his name. 

“I am tempted to test it, to see how far I can take you before you _ break_,” Lucien murmured, and leaned down. His teeth found her neck, hand still between her thighs and drawing more moans from her lips. Nal was only half listening now. He was everything she had wanted 200 years ago and more. The man would have been a wholly unsuitable and likely unstable father but _ gods_, for the purpose she desired right now, Lucien was _ perfect_. 

And perfect with his fingers. She could feel that familiar swooping, the tell-tale tightness in her core that heralded her pleasure. Not there yet, but _ soon_. 

Lucien’s teeth bit at her neck once more as his hands slipped beneath her. Stripes of hot, dirty pain raked down her back and Nal _ arched_, bucking with sharp cries as Lucien scratched his way down to her ass and began to grab and squeeze. His hips sped up, and where two mortals would have made a _ slap _ as they met, Lucien’s ethereal form met hers with little more than a muted noise. 

“Do you think I could do it?” Lucien purred in her ear. “Exhaust your mortal body until you lie weak and helpless beneath me?”

“Do you like the sound of your own voice?” Nal asked with a strangled gasp, as that edge came closer and closer with each stroke of his cold fingers.

Lucien’s chuckle in her ear was _ sinful. _Predatory. Dirty. And it was all the Bosmer needed to cum, her thighs tensing up either side of his waist. Her voice shattered around her cries, eyes closing tight. The pleasure was slow and deadly, spreading from where his hand was rubbing, rolling over her tense body until it sapped the strength from her limbs. Her hips rode his touch as best he could despite the mystical force pinning them down to the bed, and it was only when the cold brush of his fingers became too much that she began to wriggle. 

And still, Lucien didn’t stop. As Nal whined sharply in protest, she felt his grip on her tighten again. He was going to chase his own end, and Nal’s curiosity overrode her satisfaction. 

What would a ghost look like in the throes of orgasm?

What would _ Lucien _ look like in the throes of orgasm?

He caught her watching him as his expression slowly changed, and what must have been a well-schooled air of control started to slip. Lips curling back over his teeth, his brow furrowed as soft growls escaped his mouth. 

“Close?” she almost teased. 

“How many times did you picture this?” Lucien shot back. “Picture, _ mmm_, me filling you, indulging your desires?”

Fuck. 

“The Dread Father has promised me _ hours _ with you,” he added, breathless for once. “And I do not exhaust, my Silencer. You will have _ all _ those desires fulfilled, in the ways I could not when I still walked as a man.”

Nal exhaled heavily, watching his body tense. He was about to cum.

“And now for _ my _ satisfaction.”

With that he growled, his teeth scraping along the other side of her neck. Nal yelped at the wet rush of icy cold that suddenly filled her, and she shook, wriggling away from him as _ more _ of it spurted from him and dripped down her walls. Gods, that was _ cold_. 

“That’s freezing!” she complained.

Lucien just chuckled. “Oh, it is a sensation you will soon be well-acquainted with.”


End file.
